Notes on
AI -- Angels & Insects
Nick
Harris
Blog 9/6/2025
Notes on AI -- Angels & Insects
Upon returning to A.S. Byatt, my
original purpose was to compare her Angels & Insects, a collection
of two novellas, with the two-plot structure of William Faulkner’s The Wild
Palms. The stories in each book are presented differently, Byatt’s as a
series of two novellas told fully in succession and Faulkner’s as a single book
with alternating chapters going from one story to the other. But each author
presents a paradox of theme between two stories that seemingly have nothing to
do with each other, but yet mirror each other in contrasts and paradoxes that
the reader must wrestle with on their own. This self-wrestling caused by
reading each book has caused my purpose to change; I now view the reading of
each book as a separate investigation into the nature of morality. Byatt shows,
through Victorian models, the misguided attempts of humans to interconnect the
physical world with its colonial and Darwinian harshness and the realm of the
transcendental and how it shapes the ethics of the individual. Faulkner shows
ethical dilemmas in terms of restrictions and freedom, how those who
purposefully reject the terms of society for a more liberating life can find
themselves involved in tragedy, while those who suddenly find themselves free
can ironically long for the sturdiness of a life filled with restrictions.
Byatt presents two novellas, “Morpho
Eugenia” and “The Conjugal Angel.” “Morpho Eugenia” is printed first and
complete, a rushing story told without chapter breaks (though smaller
asterisked breaks appear) that deals with the paradox of British colonialism
attempting to impose order on a wild, unstable world, while itself shows an
underlying inability to conform to its own sense of ethics. The first two
paragraphs show a juxtaposition of aristocratic propriety and the wildness of
the jungle by introducing the figure of a returning world adventurer as he
enters a proper British ballroom dance by invitation of an elegant hostess (Angels
& Insects, 3). Immediately, and continually thereafter, Adamson, the
adventurer, recognizes this juxtaposition: “Nothing he did ow seemed to happen
without this double vision, of things seen and done otherwise, in another
world” (7). The “now” is the world of the proper ballroom dance, and “another
world” is the jungle society from which he has arrived.
The Alabasters are the very proper
British family hosting Adamson, and Harold Alabaster, the head of this family,
is the benefactor who sponsored Adamson’s journeys for purposes of collecting
rare insects, particularly butterflies. Adamson, though invited into the
Alabaster family to further promote his research, feels a juxtaposed symbol to
them, as he thrived in the Amazon adventures he undertook with his hard-science
entomology and meticulous participation in “Native” society (28). Alabaster
sets up Adamson in a laboratory made from a corner of a stable, and still
welcomes him into the family by promoting a marriage to his eldest daughter
Eugenia. Thus begins the plot of Adamson discovering, little by little, how the
Alabasters misuse their position of prosperity and how his own perceptions of
society in the wilderness act as a constant call for him to return.
The second of Byatt’s novellas, “The
Conjugal Angel,” immediately follows, but unfolds in a series of twelve
numbered chapters over one hundred fifty pages. Like the first novella, Byatt
shows an immediate juxtaposition, this time in the first two sentences outlying
the two main characters (187). Lilias is all imagination, living within the
flights of her fancy. Sophy, on the other hand, must see and hear anything in
order to satisfy her “matter-of-fact” personality. They work together
conducting seances in Victorian London.
Lilias repeatedly associates herself
with the celestial visions of Swedenborg and “his voyages throughout various
Heavens and Hells of the Universe” (191). Sophy would rather watch sunsets as a
physical phenomenon, contemplating the relative sizes of the sun and the moon.
Eventually she would lead them both into “the delicately arranged world of paid
mediums” (195).
From the first, Lilias and Sophy’s
clients set themselves into an ethical battle with the mediums, bringing up
issues from the natural world. In their first controlled séance, their patrons
bring up a question of the symbolism of the owl, a creature they have found
scientifically interesting, even playful, since their son set out feeders for
them in his youth – they do not understand the bombardment of owls as symbolic
creatures of evil. The natural world and the metaphysical do not align, in
their opinion (210). Lilias comforts them with more talk of Swedenborg and his
angels and Sophy assures them of the validity of their spiritual explorations
as steeped in reality. So the natural world and the world of controlled
seances, if that can be emblematic of proper London society, mirrors those
concerns from “Morho Eugenia,” at least to some degree. This testing of the
physical (especially the “Conjugal” nature of the physical world as the title
of the novella suggests) with the spiritual informs the plot of the novella.
The novellas are full of comparable
symbols – the wings of butterflies and the wings of angels, for example. Darwin
as the impetus of “Morpho Eugenia” is juxtaposed with Swedenborg as the impetus
of “The Conjugal Angel.” Both stories use these symbols of Victorian society to
reflect on the nature of ethical reality and its place in the lives of individuals.
The next step in this complicated
process of comparison that I have set up is to bring into question the dual
nature of the stories in Faulkner’s The Wild Palms. I shall do this in a
second part of this series of notes. But I wish to mention that because of the
complexity of these juxtapositions, I consulted the AI tool of ChatGPT. I have
not used it so far in these notes, but I want to point out the sentence that AI
produced as the final sentence of the five hundred word synopsis of these ideas
for which I asked. The sentence reads: “Together, these works invite the reader to
inhabit dissonance rather than resolve it—a testament to narrative tension’s
capacity to illuminate human complexity.”
This is a
wonderful sentence and one that reflects the theme that I am trying to get to
as the heart of these narratives, Byatt’s and Faulkner’s.
But these
are not my words. They are manufactured for me from a question. I asked for in-text
references, but the AI tool gave me few. I suppose that those who know AI
better than I know that this practice is common. But it does not serve me well,
for I wish to be producing original material and giving credit when the words
are not mine. So I asked AI further: “Where did ChatGPT get the idea for the
sentence: Together, these works invite the reader to inhabit dissonance rather
than resolve it—a testament to narrative tension’s capacity to illuminate human
complexity.”
AI responded that it had looked at the two texts, then: “ I [AI is referring to itself in first
person] crafted a summary sentence that captures a common thread: both
texts resist easy resolution and instead use narrative tension to expose human
complexity.
So, that sentence
is original critical commentary, not something taken from Byatt,
Faulkner, or a critic.
👉 If you need to use it in academic work, you should frame it
as your own analysis (no citation required), but you can support it with
citations to Byatt’s and Faulkner’s texts (or to critics) to show evidence for
the claim.”
The pertinent information here is
that AI claims that I “should frame it as” my “own analysis (no citation
required).” I am uneasy about this response because the sentence, as wonderful
as it is, is not my sentence. Yet AI says I may offer it as my own.
The themes
of Angels & Insects, which I have started comments on in this blog, and The
Wild Palms, which I shall continue in future posts, concern the ethics of
symbols. Byatt uses symbols from Victorian British society to show a
juxtaposition of propriety and wild behavior, paradoxes in which ethics of human
behavior are internalized and questioned. Showing this theme in dual format is significant
to a reader because, for one thing, the reader is immediately asked to
juxtapose narratives, to invent reasons why the stories might be put side by
side or spliced together. Reading these narratives, glorifying the duality of comparison,
becomes a meaningful and purposeful experience.
[I will continue with more AI and
more of The Wild Palms in a second part of this blog.]
_______
Works
Cited
Byatt, A. S. Angels & Insects: Two Novellas. Vintage,
1992.
Faulkner, William. The Wild Palms. New York: Modern Library, 1939.
The AI asked for on 5/9/2025 by Nick Harris through ChatGPT
was: “500 word comparison of the two sections of Angels and Insects A.S.
Byatt and William Faulkner's The Wild Palms”
Upon returning to A.S. Byatt, my
original purpose was to compare her Angels & Insects, a collection
of two novellas, with the two-plot structure of William Faulkner’s The Wild
Palms. The stories in each book are presented differently, Byatt’s as a
series of two novellas told fully in succession and Faulkner’s as a single book
with alternating chapters going from one story to the other. But each author
presents a paradox of theme between two stories that seemingly have nothing to
do with each other, but yet mirror each other in contrasts and paradoxes that
the reader must wrestle with on their own. This self-wrestling caused by
reading each book has caused my purpose to change; I now view the reading of
each book as a separate investigation into the nature of morality. Byatt shows,
through Victorian models, the misguided attempts of humans to interconnect the
physical world with its colonial and Darwinian harshness and the realm of the
transcendental and how it shapes the ethics of the individual. Faulkner shows
ethical dilemmas in terms of restrictions and freedom, how those who
purposefully reject the terms of society for a more liberating life can find
themselves involved in tragedy, while those who suddenly find themselves free
can ironically long for the sturdiness of a life filled with restrictions.
Byatt presents two novellas, “Morpho
Eugenia” and “The Conjugal Angel.” “Morpho Eugenia” is printed first and
complete, a rushing story told without chapter breaks (though smaller
asterisked breaks appear) that deals with the paradox of British colonialism
attempting to impose order on a wild, unstable world, while itself shows an
underlying inability to conform to its own sense of ethics. The first two
paragraphs show a juxtaposition of aristocratic propriety and the wildness of
the jungle by introducing the figure of a returning world adventurer as he
enters a proper British ballroom dance by invitation of an elegant hostess (Angels
& Insects, 3). Immediately, and continually thereafter, Adamson, the
adventurer, recognizes this juxtaposition: “Nothing he did ow seemed to happen
without this double vision, of things seen and done otherwise, in another
world” (7). The “now” is the world of the proper ballroom dance, and “another
world” is the jungle society from which he has arrived.
The Alabasters are the very proper
British family hosting Adamson, and Harold Alabaster, the head of this family,
is the benefactor who sponsored Adamson’s journeys for purposes of collecting
rare insects, particularly butterflies. Adamson, though invited into the
Alabaster family to further promote his research, feels a juxtaposed symbol to
them, as he thrived in the Amazon adventures he undertook with his hard-science
entomology and meticulous participation in “Native” society (28). Alabaster
sets up Adamson in a laboratory made from a corner of a stable, and still
welcomes him into the family by promoting a marriage to his eldest daughter
Eugenia. Thus begins the plot of Adamson discovering, little by little, how the
Alabasters misuse their position of prosperity and how his own perceptions of
society in the wilderness act as a constant call for him to return.
The second of Byatt’s novellas, “The
Conjugal Angel,” immediately follows, but unfolds in a series of twelve
numbered chapters over one hundred fifty pages. Like the first novella, Byatt
shows an immediate juxtaposition, this time in the first two sentences outlying
the two main characters (187). Lilias is all imagination, living within the
flights of her fancy. Sophy, on the other hand, must see and hear anything in
order to satisfy her “matter-of-fact” personality. They work together
conducting seances in Victorian London.
Lilias repeatedly associates herself
with the celestial visions of Swedenborg and “his voyages throughout various
Heavens and Hells of the Universe” (191). Sophy would rather watch sunsets as a
physical phenomenon, contemplating the relative sizes of the sun and the moon.
Eventually she would lead them both into “the delicately arranged world of paid
mediums” (195).
From the first, Lilias and Sophy’s
clients set themselves into an ethical battle with the mediums, bringing up
issues from the natural world. In their first controlled séance, their patrons
bring up a question of the symbolism of the owl, a creature they have found
scientifically interesting, even playful, since their son set out feeders for
them in his youth – they do not understand the bombardment of owls as symbolic
creatures of evil. The natural world and the metaphysical do not align, in
their opinion (210). Lilias comforts them with more talk of Swedenborg and his
angels and Sophy assures them of the validity of their spiritual explorations
as steeped in reality. So the natural world and the world of controlled
seances, if that can be emblematic of proper London society, mirrors those
concerns from “Morho Eugenia,” at least to some degree. This testing of the
physical (especially the “Conjugal” nature of the physical world as the title
of the novella suggests) with the spiritual informs the plot of the novella.
The novellas are full of comparable
symbols – the wings of butterflies and the wings of angels, for example. Darwin
as the impetus of “Morpho Eugenia” is juxtaposed with Swedenborg as the impetus
of “The Conjugal Angel.” Both stories use these symbols of Victorian society to
reflect on the nature of ethical reality and its place in the lives of individuals.
The next step in this complicated
process of comparison that I have set up is to bring into question the dual
nature of the stories in Faulkner’s The Wild Palms. I shall do this in a
second part of this series of notes. But I wish to mention that because of the
complexity of these juxtapositions, I consulted the AI tool of ChatGPT. I have
not used it so far in these notes, but I want to point out the sentence that AI
produced as the final sentence of the five hundred word synopsis of these ideas
for which I asked. The sentence reads: “Together, these works invite the reader to
inhabit dissonance rather than resolve it—a testament to narrative tension’s
capacity to illuminate human complexity.”
This is a
wonderful sentence and one that reflects the theme that I am trying to get to
as the heart of these narratives, Byatt’s and Faulkner’s.
But these
are not my words. They are manufactured for me from a question. I asked for in-text
references, but the AI tool gave me few. I suppose that those who know AI
better than I know that this practice is common. But it does not serve me well,
for I wish to be producing original material and giving credit when the words
are not mine. So I asked AI further: “Where did ChatGPT get the idea for the
sentence: Together, these works invite the reader to inhabit dissonance rather
than resolve it—a testament to narrative tension’s capacity to illuminate human
complexity.”
AI responded that it had looked at the two texts, then: “ I [AI is referring to itself in first
person] crafted a summary sentence that captures a common thread: both
texts resist easy resolution and instead use narrative tension to expose human
complexity.
So, that sentence
is original critical commentary, not something taken from Byatt,
Faulkner, or a critic.
👉 If you need to use it in academic work, you should frame it
as your own analysis (no citation required), but you can support it with
citations to Byatt’s and Faulkner’s texts (or to critics) to show evidence for
the claim.”
The pertinent information here is
that AI claims that I “should frame it as” my “own analysis (no citation
required).” I am uneasy about this response because the sentence, as wonderful
as it is, is not my sentence. Yet AI says I may offer it as my own.
The themes
of Angels & Insects, which I have started comments on in this blog, and The
Wild Palms, which I shall continue in future posts, concern the ethics of
symbols. Byatt uses symbols from Victorian British society to show a
juxtaposition of propriety and wild behavior, paradoxes in which ethics of human
behavior are internalized and questioned. Showing this theme in dual format is significant
to a reader because, for one thing, the reader is immediately asked to
juxtapose narratives, to invent reasons why the stories might be put side by
side or spliced together. Reading these narratives, glorifying the duality of comparison,
becomes a meaningful and purposeful experience.
[I will continue with more AI and
more of The Wild Palms in a second part of this blog.]
_______
Works
Cited
Byatt, A. S. Angels & Insects: Two Novellas. Vintage,
1992.
Faulkner, William. The Wild Palms. New York: Modern Library, 1939.
The AI asked for on 5/9/2025 by Nick Harris through ChatGPT
was: “500 word comparison of the two sections of Angels and Insects A.S.
Byatt and William Faulkner's The Wild Palms”
